


The Healer has the Bloodiest Hands

by littleblue_eyedbird



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lavellan x Solas x Lavellan, Love Triangles, Meanwhile the Dalish healer that joins Solas' cause slowly falls in love with him, Post-Trespasser, Romance, Slow Burn, Solas and his Vhenan are tearing themselves apart in battles stop one another, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, as she tends to his wounds inflicted by his vhenan, i'm marking Major Character Death just in case it happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:05:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblue_eyedbird/pseuds/littleblue_eyedbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My people had a saying once, the healer has the bloodiest hands, you cannot treat a wound without knowing how deep it goes. You cannot heal pain by hiding it. You must accept it. Accept the blood to make things better.”</p><p>And so Elena does--enlisting as an agent of Fen’Harel and lending her talents as a necromancer and spirit healer to support the Dread Wolf’s mission to restore the glory of a fallen, forgotten empire. Meanwhile, The Wolf's former lover and ex-Inquisitor, Sulenera Lavellan, has sworn to save the Wolf from himself, thwarting his plans at every turn but at a costly price. Elena hopes she can help heal the pains of a dying world, but finds herself trying to save the Dread Wolf’s broken heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Healer has the Bloodiest Hands

The first time Elena met the Dread Wolf was when he removed her vallaslin.

At dawn on the first day of each month, the Wolf would perform the _Revas’ara_ for hours, the ritual for all those in his service who wished to be freed of their slave markings. The newly pledged and ancient alike would gather and watch as their lethallin were unbound and welcomed. As one was liberated, another would walk forward and take their place before the Wolf. It was a choice, not a requirement—though she noticed the mortal elves who gave up their markings were accepted more quickly by the ancient ones, and less likely to be faced with prejudice and spite. But to the Wolf it did not matter, he treated all his recruits with respect regardless if they kept or rejected their blood writing.

The Dalish once told stories about the God of the Great Betrayal, describing him as a sinister figure that answered prayers that intrigued him but at a price, or a demonish fiend that preyed upon the weak minded and led them to destruction. When the truth of Fen’Harel legacy spread across Thedas by the former Inquisitor, it had shattered the way the Dalish viewed their entire Pantheon. It had shaken the very tenants of their religion and culture--some clans still feared him, some spited him, while others turned to worshipping him. Many more tried to join him. She wondered what her own clan, had they still been alive, would have thought of the Wolf if they could have seen him now. The way Clan Sabrae had described Fen’Harel, she would have expected him to appear more…malevolent and in appearance.

Instead, he exuded an air of calculated grace. He stood in the center of what once would have been a regal courtyard; the remnants of high vaulted archways lay in crumbled pieces adjacent to the pair of broken Eluvians looming in opposing corners. The fractured glass of the giant mirrors reflected the scene caught in their cracked fragments, causing beams of blue light from the spell he had cast to glint off the marred surfaces and onto the soft green grass, bathing the stone walls in a gentle glow. She watched intently as he effortlessly sustained the bright and brilliant spell that enveloped the figure that knelt at his feet with elegant dexterity.

When the ritual ended, the tendrils of iridescent light that had spread from his open palms suddenly withered away, leaving nothing but trailing wisps dancing in the grass in the aftermath. He extended his hands to the man and lifted him to his feet. There was a brief exchange she couldn’t quite make out from her place at the edge of the yard. The Wolf and the man bowed their heads in reverence before the recruit joined the throng of newly liberated elves standing beneath one of the ruined arches.

She felt her own fingers idly traced the blue lines of the vallaslin that decorated her own face—something she would not be able to do for much longer. She remembered her sixteenth name day when she received her blood writing vividly—the sense of pride and accomplishment, acceptance and praise from her clanmates and Keeper for choosing to dedicate herself to the ways of Sylaise, Goddess of the Hearth and Healing. But she also remembered the searing pain as each line was permanently cut into her flesh, the burning sensation as the preserving spell made the ink settle permanently in her skin. The pain lingered for days after the ritual had been completed, she had wondered if it would ever end. Thankfully it did.

That had been nearly twelve years ago, but it had begun to feel like twelve lifetimes. After Elena had learned where the vallaslin originated from, her pride was replaced by shame, and she began having phantom sensations of pain where the ink had claimed her face. She had not given much thought if removing them would involve the same excruciating process as having them laid on—until now.

Fen’Harel clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his posture, turning his gaze upon her—and she realized she the only person left.

Her hand froze on her cheek as they made eye contact.

“Step forward.”

She suddenly couldn’t move, trapped by the intensity of his stare as his stormy eyes bored into what she felt was her very soul. She felt the hard press of a gauntlet against her back, guiding her forward with more force than was necessary towards him. She found herself taking a few rushed steps in his direction from the push but slowed her pace as the distance between them shrank. She jerked her hand away clenched it into a fist at her side to prevent her fingers from trembling. She stopped two feet away from him.

His gaze softened as he gestured for her to kneel—and she obliged, unable to look away and slightly awestruck.

So _this_ was the real Fen’Harel.

He resembled nothing like the monster of a being that was depicted in the Dalish legends of old; he had no grotesque features, no multiple sets of vile crimson eyes and sharpened fangs, no threatening demeanor. Not that she had expected to meet such a creature. She had once held the belief that the Gods were powerful, divine spirits deserving of respect—trapped in the fade with their connection to their people severed by some type of ward or spell.

She hadn’t been entirely off the mark.

But man before her was not a spirit, or at least he was not anymore as far as she could tell from simply observing him. He was very much made of flesh and bone and life, not sewn together from pieces of nightmares and dark forces like her Clan would have believed, nor a construct of the fade as she had believed. But this revelation made it no less jarring to see the being she had once revered as an omnipotent deity walking among the waking world, and clad in such humble attire—he wore a pair of plain dark green leggings beneath a loose off-white tunic, with a simple wolf pelt draped across one of his shoulders whose fur rippled every time a soft gust of wind glided through one of the desecrated archways. The most shocking aspect of Fen’Harel might have been his lack of hair, though she would ever admit this out loud to anyone.

Her eyes traced up his sharp jawline, over the set of high cheekbones and brow that complimented the shape of his eyes. She could help but think he looked regal, even dressed in the simple attire. His aura radiated a quiet power, she could feel its magnetic pull thrumming along the base of her skull and on the surface of her skin. Her eyes found his once again, and she could see the fatigue from his endless spellcasting etched within them, though he tried to hide it behind his reserved composure.

Something flashed within his eyes for a fraction of a second as he studied her face, too quick for her to recognize the exact rush of emotion, but she noticed his shift in body language. He became more guarded. Her stomach twisted itself into knot of panic.

What prompted his shift? She began to worry what he thought of her—a Dalish deserter showing up at the entrance to his supposedly hidden Eluvian just north of the Arbor Wilds that led to his stronghold and wanting to enlist as one of his agents. Did he wonder how she had found his hideout? Did he question her motives, her loyalty, her abilities? She been there less than a week… not nearly enough time prove herself a trustworthy ally. What if this had been a grave mistake? What if he thought she was a double agent for the former Dalish Inquisitor and chose to smite her on the spot?

Her heart began to thunder within her breast as her mind flooded with a hundred more “what ifs”. She tore her eyes away from him and focused solely on the tiny blooming flowers that littered the ground around her knees. She let herself get momentarily distracted by the pink petals as they unfurled themselves to bask in the early morning sun cresting the ramparts around the courtyard as Fen’Harel and the other ancients silently appraised her.

She let out a startled noise as she felt the light touch of his fingers curl underneath her chin, tilting her head up once more. She was surprised to see he had gotten on her level, and was now kneeling in front of her. But even so he was still tall enough to loom over her.

She had never been good at masking her emotions, and her uneasiness must have shown evidently on her face for he said, “Do not be afraid.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Will it hurt?” The words spilled from her lips before she could reign them in.

“It will feel cold, but there will be no pain.”

She couldn’t help but give him a wide eyed, disbelieving look.

This was Fen’Harel after all.

“What is your name?” He asked her gently, tilting his head to the side.

“Elena Nehnisa… Sabrae.” Her voice came out as a whisper.

“ _Elena Nehnisa_.” He echoed, and the lilt in his voice as it curled around the vowels of her name caused her to shudder.

“She’s the Dalish _ladarelan'elgar_.” The sentinel that had pushed her informed Fen’Harel somewhere from behind with a sneer. His eyes flicked past her shoulder in annoyance.

“I believe our newest healer is capable of speaking for herself, Aviselan.”

The sentinel, Aviselan he had called her, made a disapproving sound but otherwise kept her mouth shut.

He turned his attention back to Elena.

“I am aware these markings have held a different meaning for the Dalish for quite some time. I need to know this is something you truly want before I remove them. I would not have you make a decision you come to regret. Should you choose to keep your vallaslin, I will understand.” He said kindly.

 “No,” Elena shook her head confidently, causing a few black curls to escape their confines from her intricately crafted bun, “I want you to take them. I belong to no one but myself, and I would have my body reflect that.” She took a steadying breath as his fingers moved from beneath her chin up he side of her face to brush away the loose strands of her hair, tucking them behind her ear.

In this decision, she was sure of her choice—and she let it show.

His mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles at her display, “ _Ma nuvenin_.”

He raised his other hand to ghost over her face and within seconds her vision was flooded with a flash of blinding light. She felt his mana wash over her, sending shivers down her spine with each passing caress. Her skin tingled as the spell took hold, leaving cool trails where his magic brushed delicately along the lines of the vallaslin adorning the left side of her face. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness emanating from the spell, she took the chance to examine his face more closely. The blue light illuminated his features, causing them to become even more pronounced and defined than they already were. A thought began to form in her mind before she had the chance to stop it.

He was striking.

Handsome, even.

Words she never thought would have described the Dread Wolf. But now…

She accidentally gasped, and it drew his focus. His fingers twitched beside her temples as that emotion she couldn’t quite catch before burned clearly in his eyes now.

It was guilt.

But as soon as the guilt had come, it was gone, and replaced once more by something distant and unreadable. The glow from his hands began to fade as he lowered them away from her face. He offered his hand to her, an invitation to join him as he stood.   She studied the long tapered fingers reaching towards her own. She noted the small nicks and scars around his fingertips, the rough callouses where his staff would rest in his grasp, and smooth expanse of his upturned palm splayed before her. Gingerly, she placed her hand in his, her skin far more scarred than his was. She did not miss the curious pull of his brow as he studied the faint white lines that lay slashed in disarray across the back of her hand. She could see the question forming in his eyes as he tightened his grip and pulled her up with him, but remained silent.

Their movement in the broken Eluvian on the right as they rose together captured her attention.

She did a double take and forgot how to breathe. The glass had six large fractures cut through its pristine surface, causing six barefaced reflections of herself to stare back at her. She vaguely registered the Wolf retracting his hand as she took a few slow steps towards the grand mirror. She reached out and touched the shattered surface, to reinforce that it was in fact real, and the reflections gazing at back at her were too.

She had forgotten what she had looked without the blue lines of her vallaslin.

Now that it was gone, it couldn’t diminish the color or depth of her gleaming blue eyes. The thick smattering of freckles that adorned every inch of her skin were now more pronounced on her face, and the crooked bridge of her nose less so.

She let out a breathless laugh as she traced the bridge of her thrice broken nose, forgotten memories flooding her mind as she ran her fingers over the bump. Three times she fell off Sundermount, and three times she had to hear endless lectures by Keeper Marethari to not to play dangerous games on the sacred mountaintop. Two of the three times Marethari healed her face, and her various other broken limbs. By the time she fell the third time she had already come into her magic, and Marethari taught her how to set her own bones to heal. It was partly why her nose was still a little crooked—it was the first bone she ever tried to mend. She kept it crooked because it reminded her of how far she had come as a healer. Her mind wandered to other faces besides her own that she had healed, and she could have sworn she saw their reflections in the Eluvian in front her. The faces of clanmates she had not thought of in years since their death, because that was one pain she discovered the hard way she could not heal alone.

She trailed her fingertips over her newly unmarked brow and down her cheek to edge of her daintily pointed chin. She was surprised when she pulled her fingers away and found they were wet.

When she looked back in the mirror, she saw Fen’Harel watching her reaction intently. She quickly wiped the tears from her face and composed herself as she turned to face him.

“I regret nothing,” She gave him a small, reassuring smile, “ _Ma serannas_ , Fen’Harel.”

She gave a small bow, which he returned in kind.

“ _Ar lasa mala revas_.”

The words hung heavily in the space between them, though he had spoken it more to himself than to her. She held his gaze far longer than she should have, trying to figure the hidden emotion lurking beneath the surface of his tired eyes.

Aviselan stepped in between them then, shattering the moment.

“Congratulations.”

She did not, in fact, sound at all congratulatory.

Elena got the distinct impression the sentinel was not fond of her in the slightest.

“ _Ma serannas_ , ser.”

Aviselan’s face twisted into a scowl as she sharply nodded her head in the direction where the other recruits were filtering out of the courtyard, “Infirmary. Don’t keep Rajlani waiting.”

She gave a polite nod to the ancient rogue warrior, who stormed off in the opposite direction. Elena made her way carefully to the dilapidated arch before casting a quick glance at Fen’Harel over her shoulder.  He had turned to face the damaged Eluvian with renewed interest, his hands once again clasped firmly behind him. She watched has his detached mask cracked, his brows furrowing into a pained expression. She felt her heart ache for the Wolf staring so cruelly at his refection.

She wondered what ghosts he saw staring back.

**Author's Note:**

> Elven:  
> Revas'ara- term I personally created to describe the vallaslin removal ritual, lit. meaning: freedom's journey (I took some creative liberties with that one, I thought it sounded cool)  
> ladarelan'elgar- spirit healer  
> Ma nuvenin- as you wish  
> Ma serannas- thank you  
> Ar lasa mala revas- //ENDLESS HEARTBREAK, just kidding// you are free; I give you your freedom
> 
> Elven Name Translations (From Fenxshiral's Book of Names):  
> Nehnisa- Great joy; endless joy  
> Aviselan- girl of flame  
> Rajlani- royal child  
> Sulenera- Singer of dreams; dream singer
> 
> This fic idea originated when I was nightblogging and having too many Solavellan feels. I thought to myself as I liked and reblogged beautiful Solas fanart, I have two Lavellan Inquisitors who romanced the Dread Wolf...wouldn't it be lovely if I shattered both of their hearts and made both exist in the same timeline and fall in love with him? 
> 
> The fic will swap POVs between Elena and Sulenera (Inquisitor Lavellan) [and possibly Solas--to be determined] to further the plot.....if this is something people are interested in continuing to read :3
> 
> You can find me on tumblr here:  
> writing blog: [blue-eyedbirdchirps](http://blue-eyedbirdchirps.tumblr.com/)  
> personal blog: [littleblue-eyedbird](http://littleblue-eyedbird.tumblr.com/)


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